


3 things

by Estefany



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders-centric, Hurt Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Hurt No Comfort, Is it unsymp! Roman if he didn't mean to hurt him?, No Plot/Plotless, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, angst with no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:55:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27559429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estefany/pseuds/Estefany
Summary: Remus doesn't handle pain the way everyone else thoughOr: My personal headcannon of what Remus does when he's upset.
Kudos: 16





	3 things

**Author's Note:**

> I have 0 excuses for this I just wanted to hurt my rat boi

Ever since accepting Remus in the group, the sides knew for sure only three things about him:he was loud, careless and violent.

They learned that those weren't as horrible to live with as they sound. Even if not always succeeding, he'd try his best to make them laugh when they were down, to give advice, to have fun with the others and they'd try in return. They soon got used to his dark demeanor and started to see some of that sweetness unintentionally hidden underneath sex jokes and gore. They began to know him, and he began to know them. 

Most of the time, it was good. 

But other times...

There was yet a conflict to be addressed: the twin's relationship. Roman had said to accept Remus, but soon it was clear the it wasn't entirely true. They barely spent time with each other, Roman preferring to slay dragons in the imagination and Remus to talk with Logan and/or Janus until one of them got tired. The discussions were a disaster, putting it kindly. Neither was willing to accept or listen to each other's suggestions, especially when it came to the creative matters. Most of the time, another side (Logan, usually) would step in before things got pass mockeries and passive aggressive insults, and at the end of the day the brothers would make up with a Disney marathon.

But everyone knew that it was a time bomb, ticking in the silence, waiting until it exploded. 

And it did. 

Roman slapped his mouth shut, but it was too late. He didn't mean it. God, he didn't think. He didn't mean it he didn't want to say that, anything but that. But the damage was done. The gaze of the rest shifted with fear between the two creativities, waiting. They expected more shouting and fists and blood and every single swear word in existence, but there was just silence. Remus fixed his posture, glassy eyes stuck in his brother but not quite looking at him, his lips in a thin line, showing nothing but silent pain, and if it wasn't for Roman's shivering, they would have thought the had time stopped. No one dared to move, to blink, to breathe. 

Remus was loud. When he was angry, he was louder. But when he was hurt? When he was upset? He was quiet. He'd turned off, like shutting down a computer, turning his outside into a numb shell that could easily pass for a dead body if it wasn't for his thighly curled fists. Because there were just too many thoughts and feelings and memories that made his heart ache and his head explode and if he did anything as much as open his mouth he wouldn't be able to control himself. 

Roman took a step towards him. Remus took one back. His gaze glossed over the rest, as if to barely acknowledge them, before he sank out, painfully slow, waiting for someone to ~~not~~ interrupt him. No one did. 

Remus was careless. He was like a rag doll, who could be punched and thrown and stepped on to the floor and he'd get up like nothing happened. But once he was hurt, his fabrics and stiches turned into porcelain and every hit and cut turns into a crack, and they hurt, they hurt so, so much and he's oh so fragile and if someone does as much as whisper he'll fall apart into tiny pieces that turn into more tiny pieces until there's nothing but chaos and anger and _pain_.

Appearing in his room, he made a canvas with paints and pallets appear. Not caring about his shaking hands, he took the already soaking wet brush and started painting, if you could call that those mindlessly thrown lines on the canvas. Drops. Drops were painted over and over again in the cavas, overlapping, big, small, detailed, sketched, all painted over and over again until only he could tell that it was anything but a bunch of horribly thrown streaks of red and brown and green.

And once it there wasn't a single point of white visible, he threw the cavas away, invoked a new one, and began again, unbothered by the smuggled make up in his face

Remus was violent. But he wasn't stupid. He knew what he was doing, he knew that Roman could handle being knocked out, he knew that most of his ideas were, at their core, harmless. But when he was upset... He didn't know. He didn't know what he could do. And that terrified him. Because he could lash out at any given moment and actually hurt someone. And if he ever did as much as hit Roman or Janus or anyone for real, the others would never forgive it. He could never forget it.

He wished to be like Patton or Roman, pretend like everything was fine until going to his room. But he couldn't. So instead he'd tire himself. He'd keep on painting, ignoring the tears, the shakiness, the pain in his chest, and just keep on painting keep focused in one things and only one thing until he was too tired to do anything else, to hurt anyone else.

When Roman got the courage to go check on him, he was passed out on the floor, paint Staining the walls and smuggled canvases scattered all around him. 


End file.
